In piecing together a coherent story, liberties have been taken with the original posts, mainly to clarify who is speaking, or performing a given action. Spelling and occasional grammar corrections have also been made. However, also be aware that minor modifications have been made to cover plot inconsistencies that occurred when sorting the various posts into order, and that the original Usenet posts have been hacked apart and reassembled by paragraphs rather than on a whole post basis.

NOTE: For a frame of reference, it is nearly three Britannian months since Lord British sent the Avatar to the Serpent Isle. (He has since been shunted to Pagan, where he will stay for the equivalent of one Britannian year, starting after one month of being in the Serpent Isle. He will therefore be gone for about another ten months.) It is early summer, year 363 (U7BG was 361, right?). And I'm starting us off in Moonglow. Enjoy.
 
 

"By the Virtues...." muttered Brion, "Kenneth, thou must see this!" I went outside to see Brion beside the telescope, frantically scribbling notes onto a scroll. I had not seen him this excited during my entire visit.

"What hast thou discovered, Brion?" I asked. He would not be like this for anything less than a discovery, and, I must admit, the amateur astronomer in me that took the trip from Trinsic was rather curious about it.

"A comet! Look for thyself," he said, gesturing to the telescope. I looked, and indeed there was a comet hovering amidst the stars. Brion continued, "There has not been a comet in... nearly 200 years, during the Fifth Age. Nasty, that. I wonder what this one means? Unlike the others it is not near one of the--," his voice cut off as if a knife had been taken to it.

I looked at him. "What?"

"Would that I had not seen it with mine own eyes, I would not believe it.... Kenneth, I just saw what looked like a shooting star, but it shot upwards, from far to the west? What sort of phenomenon...." But I had stopped listening, and turned the telescope in that direction myself. I saw the 'shooting star'; it was another comet, which visibly moved into the sky until resting not too far from the planet Justice. My thoughts went back to what Brion said about the Fifth Age. Justice meant Yew, and Empath Abbey was more or less a part of Yew now. I shuddered at the implications. What if the first comet had originated the same way? It was not near another planet though, and that was puzzling.

Abruptly, all my thoughts scattered as I felt a rush of heat. I whirled around, and saw a roiling fireball fly out of the Lycaeum, streaming towards the heavens. With a sickening sense of what I would see, I looked back into the telescope. Sure enough, when I had located the new comet, it was in place near a bright blue orb. Honesty, planet associated with Moonglow. Moonglow, home of the Lycaeum. The first comet was near no planet, as the Serpent's Hold was near no Town.

I turned to Brion and said, "I'm going to the Lycaeum to see what happened, but I fear I know already. Also, I will need thy new orrery viewer." He absently nodded, and looked to the telescope to see what I saw in it that so worried me. He saw. Fortunately, his new orrery viewer was imbued with enchantments to account for phenomena outside what can be readily calculated; it magically reflected the actual Sosarian system, and that would include comets. Even as I picked it up, I was already running to the Lycaeum.

When I got there I was met by a very flustered Nelson, still recovering from the shock of the rising comet. I asked him if anything happened that might have precipitated the 'giant fireball'. He shook his head and said he didn't know, but then I heard Mariah speaking from within. "Oh no. By all the Virtues, how could this happen?" I rushed in to see what so shocked her, and was dimly aware of Nelson following. Upon entering the central room of the Lycaeum, I stopped dead and did not notice anything except what I saw before me.

In the center of the room stood an ornate brazier, which had for over three centuries burned with a blue flame. It now stood empty, it's flames extinguished despite the impossibility of such happening.

The Eternal Flame of Truth had been put out. A flame which had burned since the founding of Britannia three hundred and sixty-three years ago, and which had for one hundred and ninety-five of those years held the fell being known as Faulinei, the Shadowlord of Falsehood. Now that the Flame -- the Flames, I correct myself, recalling the other two comets -- are gone, the Shadowlords are no longer bound by the purity of the Principles.

And even as that fact sunk in, I noticed one more thing. The Shard of Falsehood was not there. Someone must have taken it, for the fires themselves could not have burned the crystal tempered as it was in so many sorceries. Was it the Shadowlord? Or was it someone else?
 
 

Deep within the Bloody Plains, a small, humble hut rests decorated with the talismans and memoirs of an ancient and adventurous time, when the daemons walked abroad and dragons threatened many a passing traveller. Simple charms dangle from the open doorway and wind chimes jingle with every breath of wind.

Dracotheran now resides within this simple dwelling, practicing the simple arts of magic, creating light at night, magically lighting candles and such. Hoping that one day he too shall have mastered the arcane arts and travel across the countryside inspiring even the most stubborn of fighters with his mystical prowess. Even though his previous attempts at somewhat powerful magics had all met a miserable defeat, he still tried to tap the power of the void, relentlessly toiling to attain even a slight increase of magic ability. In the past he had been able to fend of small hordes of giant rats and create food enough for living on, but as with all mages he wished for more. The power to change the lands to his will, to destroy massive armies of evil, and to become a hero to even the simplest of men. Perhaps if he were to tap some power long forgotten or to create his own source of power. Perhaps an ethereal lens to focus the powers of the void into himself. Or to discover a low level spell that could channel even the slightest fragment of the void's power to his control. A pendant perhaps made of the finest of gems yet powerful enough to contain the power of wizardry.

Alas, all of these were far beyond the reach of such a simple mage. He would have to find another source to feed his magical desires. After thinking this over, Dracotheran leaves his pathetic excuse for a home, and headed for Minoc. After all, Minoc IS the town of tinkers, perhaps someone there could help him attain such great power, or perhaps even Moonglow would be better, the Lycaeum is the center of learning in Britannia, perhaps there is something there that could help him. Dracotheran reconsidered his trip to Minoc and headed for the docks at Vesper hoping to catch a ride to the Lycaeum.

Some time later, Dracotheran arrives at the docks of the Lycaeum and rushes in to see what knowledge he can acquire there. Shortly after, a massive ball of fire bursts towards the sky and positions itself near the Planet of Honesty......
 
 

Within a small cave within Spiritwood, seated upon a wooden chair, Destrius looks up at the ceiling of his simple home and sighs.

"It is time."

Standing up, Destrius walks towards a simple closet to the southern end of the room and takes out his nondescript bamboo staff.

"The heroes of Britannia will meet in Moonglow. That is where I shall go too."

Destrius raises his hands and begins to cast a simple teleportation spell to take him to the Lycaeum.

A flash of darkness.

"What? Will Britannian magic not function? This is strange, strange indeed. There is no way they could have done this....

*sigh*

"The Old way it has to be then."

Destrius mutters a few arcane words of magic, magic that is not of this world. He slowly fades away, disappearing...

...into the night.
 
 

It is reasonable to say, that in the finest gambling hall of Pirate's Cove, where sits the largest hulking sentry known to creation - Grandill, The One-Eyed fleshpot - dealing from the bottom of ones deck is not the safest of activities.

Seoman had never been the safe sort. Of course, Seoman had never really been the lucky sort either. Tonight would prove no different.

The dice called to Seoman.

Vigorously rolling them up was a signature move, especially when accompanied by the much vaunted chant at lady luck:

"One last throw before we go.." "One last roll to save my soul.." "Sweet mother of light, we're going to win tonight!"

As the dice made their irregular way across the table to stop and form a winning 7, Seoman jerked his arms in a herculean display of victory - ripping his sleeve in the process, and sending a bouquet of cards - Aces - flowering into the air, one landing squarely on Grandill's nose.

As the cacophonous roar of the Silver Mast Gambling Hall thinned to a meditatively quiet whisper, one could make out the very distinct sound of Grandill's roughly hewn muscles stretching and bundling, fibre by fibre. As the man-oak arose from his seat, his leathery face upturned in an expression that would have been a grin on a normal man's face, Seoman made his plea:

:smirk:

"Now, now, Grandill.. 'Tis only a game chap, you know, to have fun.. Eh.. No, No - don't get up <Ooo - that sword of yours is quite sharp> Yes, yes <OW!> I .. I'll just be taking my leave of.."

Grandill, being neither dull-witted nor slow, raised his mighty-thewed forearm and clasped the bard hard 'round the neck, quickly silencing the last of his clamouring.

"The Silencer", as Grandill liked to be called, well.. He enjoyed his work. For Grandill, a thousand words could not convey the sheer joy in watching a man's head pop off, or seeing yet another bit of tattered flesh fall from an already shredded and weeping back. What some men spoke in words, "The Silencer" voiced in agony. Grandill, long overdue for some "fun", was about to speak a volume...

It was at that time that the front of the Casino became the center of attention. A Gargoyle, red winged, and mightily built, was now making its way to Grandill's position. It spoke no words, but instead uplifted its darkened, red hands and revealed to Grandill several vials..

Serpent venom - there was no doubt in Seoman's mind (a mind that was quickly growing dim from lack of oxygen). Amazingly, as soon as it had come, the iron gloved hand of Grandill was gone. In its place was a rusted ring of metal, flaked with blood, and linked to a long chain - the end of which contained many other Britannians in similar plight.

Seoman had been sold into slavery for the cost of Grandill's venom addiction. As he was tugged from the casino and lead to a dark, barnacle-encrusted vessel, matters looked grim.

A shipload of Britannian slaves were pushed to the lower decks by callous Gargoyle claws, Seoman among the destitute lot. Above, in a moonlit silhouette the Gargoyle captain poured over an ancient map, pointing repeatedly to a newly developed star.

In the sky above them all, countless miles above, a comet raced red through the heavens.
 
 

Behind Dracotheran, a column of air vibrates and warps, slowly turning into the figure of a mage. The figure soon becomes Destrius, who looks at Dracotheran and smiles.

"Greetings, Dracotheran. I am Destrius the Mad Mage. A great event has just occurred, one which will forever scar the history of the fair land of Britannia.

"You are one of the Chosen Heroes to defend Britannia while the Avatar is away in dark Pagan. We must now seek Kenneth, who will be able to tell us more than what His blurred vision can see."
 
 

Shortly after, in Trinsic, a luminescent form soared to a landing just outside the South Gate. As it settled down, an onlooker would see it was a dragon, with yellow scales which glowed softly, which made it so visible in the night skies. In moments, however, the Radiant Dragon known as Lumina blurred for a second, to be replaced by a somewhat well-built warrior of the Paladin class, and headed into the city.

As a Dragon, Lumina had the advantage of being around a long time. He had lived through the Fifth Age, and knew the time the Shadowlords held sway. He also knew of the Avatar's accomplishments of trapping the Shadowlords and freeing Lord British from the Dungeon Doom. However, Lumina had not spent as much time than among the people as he does now as Kenneth, and so his knowledge is simply that.

Kenneth entered his home, a modest one-story building in the southeastern part of Trinsic. He set about gathering together his equipment for the journey that lay ahead of him. As he donned his armour, he thought on what he had seen in Moonglow, and what it meant. The Shadowlords were loose: that is what it boiled down to. The Flames of the Principles had been extinguished, although how that was possible remained a mystery. And who or what extinguished them in the first place? For what reason would someone want to release the Shadowlords? *Power, of course. Some would-be tyrant seeking their aid, most likely. Didn't they recall what happened to Blackthorn? Fools.*

Fully garbed in a suit of chain covered with a purple tabard, with his great, two-handed broadsword slung over his shoulder, his Fire Sword sheathed at his belt, he slung his Shield on his left arm. Made of the finest steel, it had forged into it a pure silver serpent, outlined in gold which radiated the faint glow of magic. The serpent matched that sewn onto the front of his tabard; the emblem of the Order of the Silver Serpent. Finally, Kenneth put on his Ankh pendant, symbol of the Virtues. *Can never have too much help, and Virtue on my side will indeed help.* Thus garbed, he headed back out of the city.
 
 

Once out, he peered once more into the magical orrery Brion had lent him; the comets were on the move. The Shadowlords were heading to other parts of Britannia. Would their visits be the same reign of terror as before? Very probably. *And how will we defeat them this time?* With that last thought, Kenneth cast a spell to return him to the Lycaeum entrance, now better-equipped to face the road ahead. He vanished in a burst of light.

The dissipating forces of the Flame of Truth strike resonance within an artefact buried in the ground to the south of the Lycaeum. For an instant the area behind the Mad Mage and alchemist is lit by a wall of blue light as a Moongate shimmers into existence. A figure stumbles through into the Britannian night, and then the gate is gone. The figure straightens up as he recovers his balance. As the eyes of the duo adjust to the changes in the light, they see the figure is a male human, strangely dressed, wearing a backpack and carrying a slender pointed object. A puzzled expression rounds out the impression of someone who belongs a great distance away. Looking around, he notices Destrius and Dracotheran and speaks: "Excuse me, gentlemen. Could you please tell me where on Earth I am? I seem to be a little lost."

Destrius responds to the newcomer. "Ah. You are from Earth. Nice umbrella too.

"You are now in Britannia, once known as Sosaria. This world is not far from your home planet, but only accessible through moongates, similar to the one that you did come through.

"My name is Destrius, and this is Dracotheran. What may your name be?"
 
 

Before the Earthling can formulate a reply, a blood-curdling scream erupts from across the land. A speck appears in the distance, running at impossible speed across the ground. Drawing closer quickly, the figures standing around are able to discern the characteristic features of a huge leopard. It takes only a few moments for the beast to reach them. When it is almost upon the group, it slows to a confident walk. Stopping about five feet away from Dracotheran, it lets out another scream. In the middle of its call, its outline distorts, and begins to flow into another form. In a moment, where the great cat had stood before, there stood a powerfully built man of average height in leather armour. Though he wore no other armour, he carried a Firedoom staff in his hand. Speaking in a strangely urbane and mellow voice he introduced himself. "My name is Sheriva. At your service." With this he bows. He straightens up, maintaining his solemn demeanor. A twinkle in his eye belies his seriousness, and he smiles widley.
 
 

Paulon is a little dumbfounded by this new apparition, but nonetheless responds to Destrius' question. "You may as well call me Paulon. I get called other things, but they aren't quite so polite."

Paulon looks around at the scenery, up at the sky, then looks down at the ground. Pulling out a light from a pocket of his backpack, he peers at a scorched line where the moongate had stood. "If this is Britannia, then I guess I got here through a moongate. I thought they were out of order though." He pauses then continues "And I didn't think they incinerated the grass either. It's almost as if something pushed a such load of power into the moonstone that it got goosed into working again, just for an instant. So much power that it reached Earth instead of another gate in Britannia, and yanked me here. A really strong surge of magic would probably do the job, and something that puts those three comets back in the sky probably counts in that department."

Kenneth arrives in Moonglow, and sees a group of three people standing nearby. He approaches them, and hears the end of their conversation.

"If I want to get back to Earth, I'm going to need some peace and quiet to figure out how. With three Shadowlords wandering about, there won't be any quiet, much less peace, so the first step is to get rid of them."

Paulon bows to Destrius. "You know this place better than I. Lead on, and let's get started."

Surprised, Kenneth turns to Paulon. "From Earth? Same as The Avatar and Lord British? Impressive. And thou seemst to possess some knowledge of our land..... How knowest thou of the Shadowlords?"

Lumina then surveys the others. Mages both, by the looks of them. And one seems to be of quite great power indeed. It is the one to whom the one from Earth so recently bowed. He turns to this mage and says, "Greetings, mage, I am Kenneth Whitten, Paladin of Trinsic and Knight in the Order of the Silver Serpent. And what art thou known as? And thy companions?

Destrius smiles at Kenneth.

"Greetings Kenneth. We were just about to seek you, but it seems you found us first. My name is Destrius. This is Dracotheran, whom I believe you may have met before.

"Paulon here is from Earth, as you heard. I do not know much about him, though, so perhaps an introduction would be proper? He seems to know a lot about Britannia too."

Kenneth replies. "It seems that thou hast already learned of the Shadowlords' return. We must find a way to stop it. Fortunately, I have a way to track them." Kenneth pulls out the magic orrery viewer. "I happen to be a friend of Brion's, and he lent me this to keep tabs on the comets; and therefore the Shadowlords." Kenneth then looks into the viewer. "That wasn't there before.... no." He looks rather distressed, and turns the eyepiece of the viewer to let Destrius see. Destrius takes a look, and sees....

All three comets clustered together near a planet that was not there before. Settled in an orbit between Justice and ringed Sacrifice, it was darker than that of Humility, and larger as well (not hard considering Humility's size; but this planet was larger than nearly all eight). And even on it's lit side, the blackness was quite evident. It looked like Blackrock. Abruptly, an idea came to Kenneth, and as Destrius looked back up and returned the viewer, Kenneth said questioningly, "Stonegate?" Only there would the Shadowlords congregate. And it only made sense that they would reinhabit the long-abandoned fortress upon their return. But to be reflected in the orrery as a planetoid? Something doth not seem right. Too many unanswered questions.
Too few answers.

But one answer was obvious. "We'll need more help than the four of us to face this. Mayhaps there are others from the other holds who have discerned the matter as we have? They would no doubt gather together as well. But of prime importance, our Liege should be notified of the peril to the land. I suggest we head to the Castle first. After that? To Empath Abbey, or Serpent's Hold?
Or maybe somewhere else?"

Destrius looks up at the sky for a while, apparently considering.

Soon, he looks back at Kenneth, and points his staff east.

"Skara Brae. Someone seeks to aid us there. Once we meet that person, we shall travel on to Britain and inform Lord British. Actually, I believe he knows of the Shadowlord's return. Someone from Yew would have definitely rushed back to Britain.

"Is this itinerary alright with the rest of you?"

Dracotheran thinks about Destrius' plan for a short moment then agrees in an indifferent manner and quietly slips away into a more discrete location before returning to another question that he has been mulling over for the last few hours since the beginning of this crisis. A few moments deep in thought lead Dracotheran to the scrap of paper in his left pocket. He pulls it out and shuffles it around, turning to certain angles and finally arrives at just the right placement. He then sits on a nearby rock and stretches the paper across it's surface. After quickly looking it over, Dracotheran pulls out a large square of cloth and places it next to the paper. He pulls out a quill pen and an inkwell and begins scribbling down various notes and compass locations on the paper. Then, he pulls a sextant from his pocket and takes an exact location of the now extinguished flame of truth and writes it all down on the paper. As soon as he finished, Dracotheran stuffs the paper and cloth deep in his pocket and heads back to the company of Destrius.

"Ok, I'm ready when you are." the alchemist states.
 
 

The paladin considers for a moment. "Very well, but 'twould be best if we visit LB even if he already knows; he may provide some insight for us. He was, after all, deeply enmeshed in what happened with the Shadowlords in the Fifth Age.

"But perhaps a stopover on the way would not be too much to ask. I must wonder, however, who awaits us in the city which is still more dead than alive. It has been less than two years since the rebuilding started, and there was MUCH to rebuild. As for getting there, might I suggest...." "VAS REL POR!" After a few moments, a shimmering gate appeared. "It would appear that Paulon was right. The magical and cosmic forces releasing the Shadowlords hath disrupted the Guardian's sorceries that ended all moongates. Go on through; I must go last, of course, or the Gate will close behind me. Skara Brae awaits."
 
 

Paulon slips his light into a pocket, and wanders over to examine the moongate. It stands rock-steady, without any flickering or distortion. He looks up to see Kenneth's curious gaze.

"Let me guess. It's Name Job question time." Paulon grins at some private joke. "I call myself Paulon, partly from force of habit, and partly out of an old joke even I don't quite remember. I enjoy that kind of thing. As for a job, mostly I live a dull ordinary life on Earth.

"Unfortunately I have a knack for falling into any stray wormhole, dimensional warp, or gate that opens up in my vicinity. And they do that fairly often." Paulon sighs.

"The result is that I've learned to improvise, and be bad at a lot of things, rather than good at one or two. No great magics or flashy swordplay from me, but I can manage the odd spell, and survive a fight."

"I once ran into someone who visited Britannia, so I did my best to find out more about the land. What I know tends to be more historic detail than practical knowledge, as I've never had the fortune to be transported here before. Still, enough about me. We really ought to get on with dealing with the Shadowlords. To Skara Brae!"

With that, Paulon steps into the moongate, and is gone.
 
 

"The person we shall meet is not yet known to me." Destrius states. "In fact, it may not be a person at all, but some other creature. All I know is that one awaits our arrival. It is up to that entity to reveal itself."

Destrius enters the moongate.
 
 

After Paulon and Destrius pass safely into the moongate, not more than a moment before Kenneth enters, a point of absolute darkness forms in the center of the portal, which doubles in size until the black shadow eclipses the shimmering door. The creature blends with the pure energy of the moongate and takes on a humanoid form, both of darkness and light, and steps before Kenneth.

"Greetings," the man exclaimed as he bowed to Kenneth, "and well met!" The shadow-form creature which stood before the moongate not more than a moment ago, had taken upon the guise of a white-robed human mage, holding a silver talisman of the twin moons, Trammel and Felucca, in his right hand. However, the man was surrounded not by the glow of the moongate, but by the light of the sky!

"Worry not about your friends, I had waited until they safely arrived at Skara Brae before I 'borrowed' your dimensional gate. I know you have no reason to believe the truth in what I have said, nor what I have to say, but hear me out.
About one month ago I was researching a new spell, one which could restore the moongates or provide a similar passage to the learned, when a minor accident occurred. I succeeded. What I believe to have happened is not my doing, though I am powerful, I am definitely not powerful enough to open a gate such as the one I was drawn into, and I fear, one from which the creatures who were powerful enough to open a 'void gate' escaped from, into this world. Least you misjudge me, I did not know that the 'knock' on the door to the void would be answered, much less torn open then sealed inside... But I've began to trail from the subject at hand, we must quickly rejoin your companions, yourself to continue your mission, and myself to discover how these creatures knew I would provide them with access to our world. Do not bother with your moonstone, I have a more unique method which will also show that I speak the truth."

Kenneth ponders the mage's words, and then replies, "The creatures you speak of are called the Shadowlords. Over two hundred years ago, they wrought a reign of terror upon this land, Britannia. They were sealed by the Avatar, our hero of legend, for all the time since. I know not what the spell is that thou hast cast, but I do not believe it to be the source of their release. I have a sort of..... feel..... for certain magics, if they are strong enough. The spell which extinguished the Eternal Flame of Truth, and thereby released the Shadowlord of Falsehood, was cast from within that same room. It was no magical accident which did this. Given that the Shadowlords were released one after the other, I assume that whoever released them had means to teleport to each location, cast the spell, and then move on. The cosmic forces released by the Shadowlords' return, however, may have latched onto thy spell and drawn it hence. The same thing happened to Paulon, who was pulled into a spontaneous-forming moongate not long before yourself. What I would like to know is who would be so twisted in malevolence as to release some of the most powerful foes in our history.

"..... Oh, one more thing. Exactly what world dost thou come from? Obviously not Britannia, given your lack of knowledge of certain things, but your world has moongates, you say, and ones that had stopped function, as ours have. And thou hast not the look of a Britannian in thee."

The mage intones Vas Rel Por An Lor Tym while grasping the amulet in his right hand. The air in front of Kenneth and the mage begins to ripple, then tears apart, showing a swirling tunnel of stars with Paulon and Destrius, frozen in place as if they had just left a moongate, standing before Skara Brae. The mage, grabbing Kenneth by the arm, takes the step into the portal. As the stars scream past them the mage turns to Kenneth.

"By the way, the name's Myrmidon."
 
 

Dracotheran comes running out of Moonglow to the location where he last knew his companions to be, all of which are now gone.

"Ok, this isn't good."

Dracotheran looks around as if to make sure nobody was looking and casts Vas Rel Por.

*FIZZLE*

"Damn! I can never get the gesture right. I guess that leaves me only one option."

Dracotheran then heads for the dock hoping to catch the next ship to Skara Brae.
 
 

Destrius looks at the new mage who appears along with Kenneth from a portal.

"It seems we have another partner in our endeavour. Hmmm.... let's review our party...

"3 mages, 1 paladin, 1 ummm... Paulon, and that strange feline person we left behind in Moonglow."

"Being Moonglow, I am not surprised we are mage-heavy," Kenneth comments.

Destrius looks a bit sheepish.

"Forgot to ask him to join us. But no doubt he'll appear quite soon, with his apparently magical capabilities."

Looking around at the barren landscape of charred Skara Brae, Destrius ponders for a moment and then abruptly sits down on the floor.

"We shall wait here for Sheriva, if that is what he is called, as well as the entity seeking us. With luck, they should appear soon."

"I don't know about Sheriva, but would one of those qualify as the entity?" the Paladin asks.

Looking where Kenneth indicates, the others see two forms approach. One is the Archmage of Skara Brae (and ex-lich), Horance. The other is a stately winged Gargoyle who touches down in fron of the group just as Horance arrives. Just as suddenly, a third person appears in a flash of light. The new arrival does not look to be a mage, however, and upon arriving, a ring on the newcomer's hand vanishes in a similar flash of light.
 
 

'Tis monotonous, life on the sea. You're either up, or you're down. Hours pass headlong into days which slip and slide into weeks. Time passes slowly on a ship when one has nothing but shackle and oar. The rowing is constance. The rowing is sanity. The rowing never ceases.

And then one day... It did.

There was no fight left in Spellsinger today. A goodly beating at Gargoyle hands saw to that - if you could call them hands. Brutish things the Gargoyles - daemons from below Britannia. They did not belong here. There were folk of Britannia who decreed "Send them back!" Spellsinger was woefully inclined to agree.

Seoman sighed, dropping his head to his knees, in the universal gesture of the defeated. "There would be no luck for this bard tonight. This stop - no good shall come of it." he thought. Through a tiny fissure in the ship's hull, a morbid light seeped through.

The view (through what turned out to be a small knot-hole) held no promise. Grey lands lie wounded under a scarred grey sky, with mercurial waters lapping at its frayed edges.

"We must be off the shore of Skara Brae. If the Gargoyles leave us too long, the dead shall make us their own."

"I should probably find delight in such a fate for this moment. To glide from my bindings and be free of this tortured form.. Take us, oh walking dead. Free us from these shackles of bone and blood.."

Seoman gazed once again through his tiny window.

There, in the fog strode the Gargoyle Captain, along-side him a very gnarled and ancient seeming man. In the far distance, there were more figures still, some small, some larger still..

"What fate awaits thee, figures in the mist?"

<whispered> "What fate awaits me, tired as I am.. What fate awaits me?"
 
 

Destrius looks at the two who approach, and motions at Kenneth.

"That's Horance. I haven't seen him for a while. Always too busy with rebuilding this damn place. He doesn't seem to be doing his job quite well, though.

Destrius indicates at the scorched land beneath him, devoid of any vegetation at all, and still smelling of mandrake root.

"And that gargoyle looks familiar. He's in the slavery business, by the looks of that ship."

A mischievous thought enters Destrius' mind as he looks at the ship. Something else soon catches his attention, however, as a flash of light heralds the appearance of another figure, and a smaller flash the disappearance of a ring.

"Who is that!? That ring that disappeared! I know it! I can feel it's power!"

Noticing his companions looking at him quizzically, Destrius calms down and explains.

"The ring that was on that person's finger is the Ring of Haeth. It is one of the Two Magian Rings, the other being the Ring of Xiesh.

"These two rings were designed by a great mage in the very early days of Sosaria, long before Lord British appeared in our land. The plans and magicks required to craft them were written, but the designer died before she could make them.

"The Ring of Xiesh gives the person who wears it the ability to cast spells without the need to reagents. I have heard that it was crafted by a Shal of Serpent Isle.

"The Ring of Haeth, is the exact opposite. It allows the one who wears it to possess an infinite amount of etheral power. This would mean that you can cast any spell that is magically possible. The power the ring grants is so strong that the standard words of power are not needed at all. All one has to do is to think of the desired event, and it will happen.

"I have never heard of someone actually creating it, though. The magick needed is immense, and such an event would cause a tremendous disruption in the ether. All the mages in this universe would have felt the pulses.

"But I ramble on. I had best go forth and inform see what Horance thinks of this, and find out more about the two strangers."

So saying, Destrius walks towards the archmage of Skara Brae, who is busy talking to the gargoyle.

"Greetings, Horance. It has been long since we met. Who may these personages be?"

"Destrius! When did you arrive? I did not see you... come, please help me settle this matter.

"This imbecile of a gargoyle you see here wants me to let him keep his slaves here. To hide them from the paladins seeking to stop slavers such as him, no doubt. I naturally refused, Skara Brae being no criminal's hideout. A day's voyage to Buccaneer's Den would be much better both for him and for me.

"He doesn't seem to understand me, however. Even tried to threaten me. Me, of all people. Why, I could just blow him apart with a fireball if I wanted to..."

Horance looks at Destrius pleadingly.

"...but then I'd rather not waste my magic-"

The gargoyle suddenly interrupts Horance in perfect Britannian.

"Do not insult me. Leave your pathetic island now, or I will have to remove you by force. You cannot use your magic - no mage can cast any spells now."

"I cannot use my magic? Ha! I'll show you some magic, you reptile-"

"I tire of this conversation."

The gargoyle waves his hand, and from the ship a horde of winged gargoyles fly out, each carrying two wingless counterparts. They swoop down and land next to Horance, and proceed to grab him.

Destrius, alarmed at the sudden attack, quickly casts a spell in Old magic.

"Ast jharos rianos/Saj Etar morkhas san."

Three small projectiles fly out of his palm and hit the gargoyles attempting to accost the archmage. They jump back, feeling the eerie magic burn their skin.

The battle is on.

The other stranger, owner of the Ring of Haeth, stands apart from the brawl, smiling quietly...
 
 

Two winged gargoyles converge on Paulon, swooping inwards, laughing as he throws himself to the ground to avoid the attack. As they swing around to attack again, Paulon scatters a packet of fine dust up into the air. Unable to avoid it, the Gargoyles fly into the small cloud, and abruptly drop from the sky, sneezing from inhaling ground pepper. Two blows on the head from the umbrella in Paulon's hands renders them unconscious.

As more gargoyles turn their attention to him, Paulon backs away. "I hope someone can come up with something useful. There's too many to fight directly with just an umbrella."

Moving backwards, he bumps into the stranger and stumbles. The Gargoyles take immediate advantage of the distraction, rushing in and restraining both Paulon and the stranger.
 
 

Kenneth draws out his two-handed broadsword and proceeds to make Gargish mincemeat. Spells from the mages flash by him, hitting any targets not within sword's reach. Soon, the Gargoyles are felled to the last. Kenneth looks around, and sees Paulon and the stranger getting up from where two Gargoyles, now sporting large holes through their mid-sections from a pair of lightning bolts, were restraining them. Kenneth turns toward the stranger and asks, "Who are you?"

While Kenneth and the others await the stranger's answer, Horance has slipped off toward the slavers' ship and proceeds to set free its passengers. In a short time, he returns with one of them, a bard by his clothing (which is rather torn at the moment). Horance addresses the group, saying, "This one insists on meeting with his benefactors. He gives his name as Seoman the Bard."

Destrius' eyes light up as he hears the name.

"Seoman... yes, I believe that's the one..."

He greets Seoman with a bow, introducing himself.

"Greetings. I am Destrius."

Then, without waiting for a reply, he quickly pulls Horance over to one side and whispers into his ear.

"Horance. That stranger over there. He has the Ring of Haeth!"

Horance looks at Destrius in astonishment.

"The Ring of Haeth? But...but how?"

"I do not know myself. He has made it invisible, I think. Perhaps we should question him, but I'd rather see what He has to say."

"Yes, that would be better."

Destrius and Horance quickly return to the group.
 
 

As the group awaits the stranger's response, Kenneth sees a blaze erupt in the sky to the east. Not another astronomical event -- this is in Britannia's own sky. *Dragonfire!* Kenneth thinks reflexively, knowing that it could be nothing else and look as it did. *And above Britain, or Paws, by the distance of it.*

To the others, Kenneth quickly says, "I'll go see what that is about. I should be back soon." Leaving the group to the matter of the stranger and this Seoman, Kenneth walks off to a clear area nearby... and morphs. Moments later, a Dragon with bright yellow scales which emit a faint light in the night launches himself into the sky.

Lumina Dragon heads eastward in a beeline toward the source of the dragonfire. Suddenly, it erupts again, slightly to the north. *Over Britain, definitely.* He adjusts his course, and soon arrives at the source of the fire...

He sees a Dragon's form fall into the Royal Orchards near the Castle, and sets down there. He sees that the Dragon is gravely injured, and not from its fall. Four gaping wounds marked the Dragon's side, all with a distinctive silvery arrow of magic embedded deeply into the flesh. There was a Shadowlord in Britain. At least one. The Dragon focuses on Lumina for a moment, but is unable to say anything before its strength leaves it for good. Lumina intones the spell of Resurrection, but in vain. One bolt from a Shadowlord causes wounds untouchable by normal curatives; four is a death sentence, it seems.

Lumina then turns to the sky again, and manages to see the culprit, in a side street leading off from the Castle. Lumina swoops down; the Shadowlord whirls and spots the newcomer Dragon instantly.

It hurls a bolt, which Lumina easily dodged in flight. Lumina then makes his counterattack.

A beam of noonday light bursts forth from Lumina's jaws, hitting the Shadowlord dead-on. It staggers, but is otherwise unaffected. A surprise; the Lucent Beam usually incinerates all creatures of Shadow and darkness; it should at least hurt a Shadowlord. But other than writhing as if uncomfortable, the Shadowlord shows no sign of being affected. Lumina ceases the beam.

The Shadowlord rasps, "That.... was most uncomfortable. But not insurmountable. When next you cross my path, I shall use your own power against you. Until then..." And the Shadowlord vanished into the darkness.

Mulling over these events, Lumina made his way back to Skara Brae.
 
 

Daybreak often does not wake Dracos, but this day was different. Lying in his cot, the dreams of the past night had been fragmented and altogether strange. Three shards of crystalline glass had impaled themselves in him, and as the wounds had magically sealed, three dark shapes had formed around him. They whispered names he could not hear, but names he knew he should remember. The darkness that was their forms had crept over him, making him feel colder and colder, until he was sure that the cold would swallow him, wiping him away.

It was then that he woke, and his blearly eyes could just pick out the gentle touch of light that streamed in through his tower's window, that ray of sunshine that only just touched his body. His heart was pounding, and sweat streamed from his brow.

"Another dream." Dracos swung out of his cot. "Uriel, Uriel where are you?"

The sound of footsteps clumsily climbing the stairs was punctuated by the sound of cutlery falling down the stairs. The door to Dracos' tower room opened, and a dishevelled figure, clutching a tray, pushed the door open.

"My, my lord." Uriel slid into the room, his shoulder holding the door open. "I'm, I'm sorry, my, my lord, I dropped the, the cutlery."

Dracos stood and took the tray from the trembling hands of Uriel. "What happened in the night?"

"My lord?" Uriel stammered.

"What happened in the night? Speak, boy." Dracos clicked his fingers, causing Uriel's face to glow momentarily.

"My lord, I do not know what happened in the night. But there are rumours..." Uriel looked around as if he were expecting someone else to be listening. "They say a great fight of fire took place in Britain. They say a group of adventurers seek to find the cause of the new moon. They say many things about the sexual proclivities of the yaks, too."

Dracos frowned. "Damn spell is fouling up again." He clicks his fingers again, and Uriel's face glows again. "Fetch me my travelling cloak, and my bag of runes. I am going on a journey. Oh, and bring me some paper, I must leave a message for my customers."

Uriel nodded before leaving the room. Dracos stripped himself of his nightclothes, and in the morning sun, the thin lines of tattoo that covered his body looked freshly inked. The tattooes were spells; all the spells Dracos had ever been able to collect from the tomes of ancient Sosaria. His body was his spellbook.

Dracos pulled on a deep purple robe, and fastened a belt around his waist. To this he afixed a series of pouches, some with reagents, others with pre-mixed spells. Around his neck he placed his Talisman of Sight, a small iron necklace that allowed him to see in the dark. It was the only magical artefact that had survived the fire that had destroyed his first home in Moonglow; the same fire that had destroyed the spell book that his grandfather had first begun to write, and that he, Dracos, had hoped to finish.

Uriel knocked before entering the room. He dropped the items Dracos had requested on the desk, and waited patiently in the doorway.

"Ah, Uriel. I'll leave the note on the desk. Come and get it in a few minutes, will you? You can have the rest of the week off. I'll leave another note in seven days time telling you of what is happening."

Uriel nodded, and left the room. Dracos smiled wryly. Was this the last time they would speak? Should he have said something? It was too late now. Dracos scribbled a quick note, and placed in on the desk under the inkwell. He then took a rune from out of his pouch, and rubbed it thoughtful, muttering arcane words under his breath. A blue portal rose in front of him, and he stepped through.

Uriel found the note half an hour later. It read:

"Greetings. Dracos the Vizier is no longer able to provide his services to the citizens of Moonglow due to pressing needs. Should anyone need to contact him, he is currently in Skara Brae, although it is not known for how long."

"My friend, if I do not come back, the tower and its belongings are to be sold, and you are to have the money. Go and buy that boat you have always wanted. I have left because I feel I might be of more use elsewhere. The Shadowlords have returned, and I feel I must aid the fight against them. I will not be long in Skara Brae, I fear.

~Dracos"

Upon the distant isle of Skara Brae, a shimmering in the air heralds the appearance of a moongate. As the blue plane of light ascends from the ground however, the air grows still, then trembles as a magical shock wave flashes through it. Far above the realm of Britannia, a noxious green radiance jumps between the three comets and outlines the mysterious black planetoid they cluster around. The moongate vanishes before the unknown traveller can complete his journey.

Paulon looks up and swears as he suddenly understands the fireworks to the east. "The Vortex Cube! The Shadowlords must have tried to steal the Cube from the Museum, and the light show was someone's attempt to stop them!"

The green glow around the comets and planetoid suddenly jumps in intensity, momentarily lighting the world below like an evil new sun, before fading.

"And given the way things are going, they likely got away with the thing, and are using it's magic for something nasty now. I hope whoever was trying to use the moongate is OK, wherever they wound up."
 
 

Just as Dracos prepares to step out of the moongate in Skara Brae, the icy blue of the magic flares to green, and the gate closes. Dracos finds himself standing in a maelstrom of flicking green lights, and he seems to be floating above a solid landmass far below. His eyes strain to pick out what lies beneath him, and he espies three dark shapes walking along the landmass. Shadowlords. And what they seem to be walking to is a simulacrum of Stonegate, which glows brightly even amongst the storm of light that surrounds it.

"Interesting, and very annoying." Dracos frowns at the land beneath.

"How am I to get down to you?" He flaps his arms experimentally, but nothing happens. He mutters a spell under his breath, and can feel the magic immediately dissipate. This is a realm without magic; perhaps it is magic itself, and refuses to allow itself to be used. No matter what, spells will not free Dracos. So he waits.
 
 

To the Northeast of Britain lies a large swampland called the Bog of Desolation. Within the Bog lie the ruins of Stonegate, the Shadowlords' earthly fortress. Yet now, they are not ruins. With the freedom of the Shadowlords and the rise of the Black Moon, Stonegate has been restored. With one significant alteration: the walls of Stonegate are now constructed of Blackrock-mixed bricks, influenced by the Blackrock Moon in orbit.

Within the castle Stonegate, in the chamber where, three hundred years ago, the Sceptre of Lord British rested, a strange apparatus now occupies that same pedestal. Made of Blackrock, diamond, and more, this apparatus focuses magical energy into the object located therein: an unassuming, dull black cube. The Vortex Cube, stolen from the Royal Museum in Britain not even two hours ago.

Suddenly, the Shadowlords stop casting spells into the apparatus, and float back a pace as it goes to work. Above the apparatus, a Vortex opens, and whisks off to the west, passing through the walls of Stonegate itself.
 
 

Shooting in from the east, a black vortex comes to rest in the middle of the group.

Upon its arrival, the stranger wearing the magical Ring speaks up.

"Ah. So they have it already. Rather good test use of it, too, since it beats walking back." To the others assembled, he says, "I enjoyed your company and everything, but my ride's here. Time for me to go." With that, he steps into the vortex, and it closes behind him.

Destrius tries to stop the stranger, but is too late.

"Damn. We've lost the ring."

The mage hurriedly chants a spell of wisdom, focussing his thoughts on the vortex that had just disappeared.

"Black... Stone... Dark, very very dark... and very magical too."

Relaxing, Destrius sighs and looks at the rest of the group.

"The ring is too powerful. I cannot penetrate the ether shield surrounding it to determine its current location.

So, what should we do now?"
 
 

Looking around, Kenneth suggests, "Might I suggest a change in locale? If 'they' are who I think they are, 'twould be a good idea to vacate Skara Brae for the time being." After a moment, he sighs and says, "And now, if the stranger does side with the Shadowlords, they know of our group. We appear to have lost the element of surprise."

He sweeps his gaze over the group, resting it on Seoman, the ex-prisoner of the now dead Gargish slave ship. To Destrius, he adds, "I presume Seoman shall come with us, given that you named him as the one we were to meet here.

"I propose as our next destination either Serpent's Hold or Empath Abbey. We might be able to gain new clues missed at the Lycaeum on how the Shadowlords were freed. Before we go, I think I'll check on our "friends'" whereabouts once more as well." Peering into the magical orrery viewer, Kenneth sees two of the Shadowlords gathered at the Black Moon, while a third was speeding from the planet Compassion to an as yet unknown destination. He relays to the group that two are at Stonegate and the third just left Britain. *A pity I can't tell the comets apart,* he mused. *Then again, I couldn't identify a specific Shadowlord by appearance either.*

"So, where to? The Abbey or the Hold?"
 
 

By a clearing in the Great Forest, a man stands, watching the sky. Concussed takes another deep breath, still struggling to believe what the dawn had revealed. High above, in the dawn sky, hangs a new orb in the skies, greater that either of the twin moons, and black as the color of night. The forest is unnaturally silent, and far in the distance, Concussed thinks he smells something burning. Shouldering his bow, he walks into the clearing. Rummaging through his backpack, he finally comes up with an enchanted scroll. He puts on his reading glasses and begins intoning the mystical runes inscribed upon it. A bright flash later, the clearing is empty ...

Concussed materializes on the outskirts of Britain. Around him are signs of a recent skirmish. From the scorch marks on the ground. and the several burning houses, he surmises that at least one of his kinsfolk, in his true form, was involved. Of the combatants, though, there is no sign.

Again, he looks up at the impossible moon high above in the grey sky. It stares back at him, as if it were a gigantic eye, and he gets the uncanny feeling that it is watching him, calling out to him ... Concussed shakes his head, and clears his mind of such senseless thoughts. "That moon - or whatever it is , surely needs to be investigated," he mutters. "But how to reach it? Hmmm... its seems that that ship will come in handy after all ...". He begins to head east, across the fields.

At the back of the field, Concussed stops, and pulls out a remote control. He pushes a button on it, and a strange vehicle is suddenly revealed. Concussed had came across the wreck, which had fallen from the stars about two years before, and with the help of a manual dating back to the First Age of Darkness, restored it to working condition. Well, or so he hoped, because he had never actually taken the damn thing out for a test flight. "Anyhow, we'll know now, won't we?" . He opens the cockpit and begins to power up the machine. He also turns on a homing beacon, so that the other Dragons can find the ship.

Behind him, he hears a rustling sound. Concussed is seized with an irrational fear and is suddenly afraid to turn around. He thinks he hears someone - or something calling his name. Involuntarily, his body begins to move to face the sound, though his mind screams at him to stop. His eyes slowly meets with those of his assailant, the gleaming, souless eyes of - a Shadowlord. "It cannot be! They cannot have returned! Even then, they could not travel by daylight!", Concussed gasps in realization. These are his last conscious thoughts before the Shadowlord takes over his mind....
 
 

High above the land, an azure dragon speeds northwest as fast as his wings can take him.

A band of raiders had landed at Skara Brae, and were even now planning to march upon his home, the Great Forest, and the peaceful city of Yew.

Still, at the back of his mind, a thought comes to him. How did I come to know this?

As swiftly as the thought came, it was gone. It does not matter, he thinks. These invaders will soon pay for their misdeeds.

And now, in the distance, he sees his destination. A ship stands adrift by the lonely isle, its entire crew slain. It appears, to the eyes of the dragon known as Concussed, to be a ship of the Royal Britannia Navy. Anger wells up in him as he spots the perpetrators standing by the shore. These are the raiders I seek, he thinks. Looking closely at them, he has the strangest feeling that he has seen some of them before ...

Clearing all doubt from his mind, the dragon prepares to attack..

Below, an armoured figure speaks words meaningless to the enraged Dragon.
"So, where to? The Abbey or the Hold?"

Without warning, a streak of blue suddenly dove from the sky, spewing flames upon the party ...
 
 

"What the void..."

Looking up at the approaching dragonbreath in shock, Destrius quickly creates a water shield to keep the fire away. The sheer power of the flames is too great, however, and still manages to scorch the party.

"What is that idiotic dragon doing!? Attacking us for no reason, and with Kenneth in the group too--"

Destrius stops abruptly, and signals for Kenneth to try to hold the incoming dragon back.

He fiddles around with his staff, closing his eyes and searching...

Finding...

An answer.

"This Dragon is not well. Try to paralyse him or something, so we can cure his ailment, if that is possible..."

Paulon looks up in shock at the airborne adversary. "If I can get him get him in close, you mages stop him." He runs clear of the group and yells at the hostile Dragon.

"Hey Lizard Lips! Yes, you, you oversized cigarette lighter! That dragon's egg I had for breakfast tasted great! A relative of yours I hope?"

Paulon stands his ground as the now furious Dragon swoops towards him, intending to use fang and claw to rend the infuriating human.

"Come on guys, do something..."

Kenneth swiftly becomes Lumina Dragon and engages the attacker, bringing both to the ground.

"I have him down!" Lumina calls. "If you're going to paralyze him, do it now."

Lumina brings Concussed close enough for Paulon's spell, and Paulon casts it.

Paulon uncrosses his fingers as the spell takes effect.

Remaining in Dragonform, Lumina asks Destrius, "What do you mean when you say something is wrong with him?" He then keeps guard over the held form of Concussed Dragon.

As an afterthought, to Paulon, he says, "By the way, you might start readying any apologies for those taunts when the spell wears off. Most Dragons don't take well to such."

The expression on Paulon's face is undecipherable, as he looks up at the glowing creature he had known as Sir Kenneth. "Believe me. I intend to."

He turns to regard the paralyzed blue Dragon in front of him then speaks again to the other Dragon. "If you actually find someone that does take well to those kinds of words, tell me. I'd like a photo."

"One thing's for certain. Whatever's affecting him doesn't distort his hearing, or he wouldn't have got so furious at me. False visual input?"

Lumina does a quick magical spell on Concussed, and as quickly withdraws the magical probe. "He is tainted by Shadow. The Shadowlords have likely made him see what they wish him to see, to foil our plans. I think I can do something, though." Concentrating, he emits a Lucent Beam at the Held form of Concussed Dragon. He withholds the physical burning effect of the breath weapon, focusing it only upon the spectral shadow-energies within.

After a few minutes, he ceases, and motions Paulon to release the spell.

Concussed slowly comes to, groaning in pain. Clutching his head, he returns to human form. He blinks, and then looks around him. Last he remebered, he was in a field near Britain preparing to take a closer look at the mysterious Black Moon. And then ... here his memory becomes hazy, and he struggles to remember the events that followed.It seems to him that he was in a dream, where he was fighting off reavers. Waking, he found himself miles away in Skara Brae in dragon form, and with a splitting headache. Around him are the faces of some he knows and others he does not. "Oh, hello guys. Good to see you." he says, getting up, and spotting Paulon nearby. He begins to say something else, and then stops, sensing something.

Everyone around feels strongly the presence of a malevolent entity. In their minds, a hollow voice rings out.

"Know that this is but a little demonstration of our power. None can stand against the forces of Falsehood, Hatred and Cowardice, for we cannot be destroyed. I would continue this little game, but my siblings need my attention elsewhere. Even now, the orbit of the Black Moon draws it closer to Britannia. Where is your precious Avatar to save you now? By all means, continue with your pathetic struggle. It is most entertaining ..." And with that, the dark presence vanishes.

"Whoa. What the heck is going on here?!" exclaims Concussed.

Lumina explains quickly to Concussed the situation with the Shadowlords and the group's attempt to stop them. As he finishes his tale, he morphs back into the form of Kenneth Whitten, human paladin, and says, "If you have mastered shapemorphs, it would be wise to travel in human form. A Dragon working with humans is likely to be noticed by many. But back to our current decisi--"

He is cut off by the magical hum accompanying a rising Moongate.

A figure in black robes steps out of *elsewhere* at the point where the Skara Brae Moongate would rise. He walks across the grassy knoll, and sees Concussed, Myrmidon, Paulon and a few others gathered.

He clears his throat. "I presume we're here to try and put things right.Count me in."

"Glad to hear it," Kenneth says. "The more the merrier. Well, the more, the better chances anyway. As I was explaining to our draconic newcomer, we are now faced with the option to go next to Serpent's Hold or Empath Abbey, to learn more of how the Shadowlords may have been freed. Or at least to get a better idea of where to head afterwards. Your vote?"

Destrius glances at the newcomer curiously.

"Certainly. But please introduce yourself."

"Empath Abbey sounds a good idea to me." Paulon states. "I understand the High Court is there nowadays, so we can take those two Gargoyles I knocked out off Horance's hands and turn them over for trial. They also knew enough about the situation with disrupted magic to count on Horance being unable to stop them when they came here, so questioning them would seem logical.

"I think we should see about moving quickly. If we don't the Shadowlords will probably keep throwing distractions at us to wear us down while they do whatever they are up to. First though..."

Paulon turns to the looming shape of Concussed. "I wish to apologize for the insults I used to get you to attack in fury. I regret the necessity of using them to enrage you, and can only say in my defense that I thought they would be more effective than something like "Excuse me. Could you please come closer so I can cast spells at you?". I am sorry.

"While I am not certain of local customs, if you require some other form of satisfaction, I am willing to provide it, once the immediate problem with the Shadowlords is dealt with."
 
 

Dracotheran, stumbling slightly from his over lengthy rest, approaches the group.

"Might I suggest that, since we are fairly close to the Abbey already, we head for Serpent's Hold? It has been my experience that short journeys are often fruitless and wasteful. Also, if the Shadowlords were going to attempt anything nasty, they wouldn't do it right next us would they? And if they did it would most likely be along the lines of an ambush. I hate to say it, but I don't exactly think we're in the shape to be taking on all three Shadowlords. At the Hold, we could at least get some aid, whether it be in arms, armour, or manpower, it'll be more than we could get from the dwindling town of Yew."

After throwing his ideas onto the ground before his companions, Dracotheran waits quietly for a response.
 
 

Destrius contributes his vote. "I suggest we try Empath Abbey. With wisps in the vicinity, we may be able to gain more insight into the matter."
 
 

The figure in black chuckles quietly. "For the time being, you may call me Helgraf."

He stretches idly, standing on the balls of his toes while doing so, then relaxes. "As for the matter of where to go next, the Empath Abbey was a safe refuge during the last incursion of the Shadowlords, so tis yet one more reason why it seems the best choice when added to those ye have all presented."

He reaches into the fabric of his robes, fingers passing through the material as if it were not there, and draws out an antiquated silver sabre and scabbard, which he attaches to the whipcord belt about his robes.

"I find myself suitable accoutred for the time being. Shall we go?"
 
 

Kenneth surveys the group, and sees nods of agreement with the choice of Empath Abbey. He then faces a clear spot nearby and intones, "VAS REL POR!" A shimmering blue moongate obligingly rises, showing the way to Empath Abbey.

Before anyone can enter, however, the Gate becomes fringed in shadows. Furrowing his brow in concentration, Kenneth intones a second spell while yet maintaining the first. "VAS IN LOR AN BAL UM!" The shadows recede as the moongate becomes bathed in a radiant light. Kenneth shouts to the others, "Hurry through while I can still maintain the spell!"

One by one, the group files through without further incident, despite the two prisoners requiring some extra incentive to move forward. Finally, Kenneth himself follows the others, jumping through the portal. He soon finds himself in the Deep Forest, midway between Yew and Empath Abbey. The party is assembled about him, having just come through the gate themselves. The moongate shuts behind him and he slumps to the ground, spent for the moment.

Helgraf mumbles quietly to himself. "This is bad - the moongates have always been clear of evil influence in the past."

He lifts a hand quietly and intones. "IN WIS JUX". Several things in the trees glow briefly.

Destrius raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Are you a Dragon too? How did you use Britannian magic?"

"Actually," Kenneth says, "it seems as though the instability caused by that Ring you spoke of has passed. My spells have been flowing more smoothly lately, which indicates that normal magic has regained operability. Things are back to normal, now. On the down side, the Shadowlords are attempting to assault our spells with their own. They knew where we were, and so focused their spell an any tapping of ether from the vicinity. We lost them now, until they re-locate us."

Destrius pauses for a moment, and feels the ether with his mind.

"Yes... the ether does seem to have returned. Strange indeed."

"We're in trouble." Helgraf warns. "I'm tracking at least twelve hostiles converging on our position."

Destrius hmms.

"Another battle, it seems. Let's get ready."

"So it seems." Kenneth draws his two-handed broadsword, and casts "Vas In Sanct!" on the group. He then faces the woods, sword at the ready.

As the spell of Protection washes over him, Destrius casts his own Bless, and readies a few exotic reagents required by the otherworldly magic he wields.

"Let me see... several fireballs, dozens of bolts, a polymorph, and some spare malleable. Should be sufficient."

Helgraf coughs quietly.

"To answer your question, I use Britannian forms when in Britannia - but you may notice the lack of reagents. I draw my power through ... other methods - but I use Britannic/Gargish runic structure to minimize interference waves.

"However, at this time, I would rather we took care of the hostiles tracking our position - we can discuss the peculiarities of my magic at a later date."

Helgraf draws his silver sabre, and takes a guard stance.
 
 

Kenneth peripherally notes that the others have become battle-ready and feels the added protection of another spell, cast by Destrius. Then he ceases to pay attention to such details as he notices motion from the woods in the direction he is facing. He hears one of his group call out "Here they come!", telling him that the enemies are coming from all sides at the same time. He looks for the first visible sign of something to attack and soon sees it. Several skeletons and zombies emerge from the woods. The Shadowlords were sending undead!

Kenneth swung his sword in a flurry of slashes, carving the dead flesh from the nearest zombie. An instant later, he is his by a ball of fire which his armour barely absorbs. He looks up intime to see a bolt of lightning shoot from the hands of a decrepit form in tattered mage's robes. *Liche!* he thought. He dives to the side, letting the bolt hit the skeleton engaging one of his companions.

The skeleton gets hit by the bolt of electricity, and momentarily shakes as the current runs down its bony joints and towards the ground. It then recovers, lightning having little effect on its body.

Destrius quickly swings his bamboo staff in a horizontal arc, the force of the wood combined with his magically-enhanced skills sending the skeleton's skull flying across the sky.

Turning his attention to the other enemies, he sees Kenneth handling most of them, including a liche that had escaped his attention, with powerful Britannian magic.

"Vas Flam Hur!" Kenneth shouts, causing a wash of fire to sweep over the enemies in front of him, including the liche. He follows the spell with another, "An Corp Mani!" The liche returns to lifelessness from the onslaught of spells. Noticing the effects his Flame Wind had on the local foliage, however, prompts Kenneth to quickly cast "Vas An Flam" before he returns to the melee.

Settling another skeleton, Destrius proceeds to send a bolt through the torso of the last remaining zombie.

Shortly thereafter, the fight is over, revealing an array of dead undead littering the clearing, including another liche. Kenneth looks around and sees that all incurred injuries were already tended to, and so tends to his own with a Vas Mani, and following that, a Rel Sanct Ylem for his armour. He then feels dizzy for a moment, which tells him that the many spells he cast since departing Skara Brae have finally depleted even his draconic stores for the moment.

Destrius quickly wraps up a cut on his right arm with a handy bandage, reluctant to waste magic on the minor injury. He senses that there is more trouble to come.

As if that realization were a cue, Kenneth hears more noises from the woods. *What now?* he thinks, as he turns to face the source of the noise.

From the trees in front of the group, 5 trolls appear, their sizes much bigger than an ordinary troll.

"Magic at work again."

Destrius hardly finishes uttering this comment before a scream echoes through the forest. Looking at the direction of the cry, the group sees a young child being picked up by a 6th troll, which licks its lips in anticipation of food.
 
 

An black fletched arrow sails through the air and pierces through the chest of the troll. Dropping the child, it staggers backwards from the pain. Anorher arrow pierces the troll through its head, ending its misery. Concussed lowers his bow and runs towards the child. Reaching the child just as the other five trolls are closing in, he grabs him and activates the ancient magic amulet around his neck. The two of them are teleported a short distance away. But already, the trolls see his new position and charge at him.

Concussed lets fly another arrow, and realizes that he has only one arrow left. He had not expected to be caught up in a heated combat situation when he had started out on his expedition. He is too weary after his recent ordeal with the Shadowlords to attempt a complex spell, and has no time to revoke the shapemorph spell to return to dragon form.

He has only one hope ... an obscure cantrip from the Third Age, designed to fight such foes ... if only he could remember it ...

What was that word of power?

RAPPORT?

REPORT?

Concussed's last arrow thuds into the torso of the leading troll, but lost in its bloodlust, it feels no pain. It hefts a crude battleaxe and lunges at Concussed.

REPENT?

RAPON?

The troll wounded by his last arrow roars in rage, and draws back his weapon to cleave the dragon in human form in two. The terrified scream of the child rings in Concussed's ears. And then suddenly he remembers the Word of Power and yelled in out at the top of his voice, with the required gestures.

REPOND!!

A blinding flash surrounds Concussed and the child. When vision returns to those around, they see that the trolls have vanished completely, banished to another realm of existence.

A moment of silence passes. Then Concussed feels the unmistakable vibes of a teleporation spell in action, and nine gazers begin to appear from nowhere.

"The Shadowlords are gating in monsters to our location!", he yells to his companions."We must counter their sorcery or be overwhelmed!"
 
 

*Is there no end?* Kenneth thinks. He quickly rummages through his beltpouch for a vial of Mandrake Essence to restore his mana. He soon comes up with a vial of the shimmering liquid and drinks it down. Feeling some of his magic return, he prepares to cast a teleportation spell to move the party to a safe location. "In Por!" The group vanishes in a flash of light, leaving the oncoming Gazers with no prey.
 
 

As this is happening, Concussed notices Helgraf heading off into the woods alone, seeking the focus of the teleportation spells, which he also senses. "Stop! It's too dangerous!" yells Concussed, just as the gazers begin to materialize. Helgraf doesn't seem to be able to hear him. Cursing the foolhardy Helgraf, he hands the crying child to the nearby Dracotheran. Then, he closes his eyes and concentrates on returning to his true form. Moments pass, then a shimmering blue glow surrounds Concussed , growing steadily brighter - and then suddenly it is gone. Concussed spreads his wings and takes off, just as Kenneth's teleportation spell takes effect. "We'll meet up later at the Abbey!" he shouts, in his now draconic voice, uncertain that they can hear him.
 
 

In the clearing between Nicodemus's hut and Empath Abbey itself, a flash of light heralds the arrival of the group. As the others orient themselves, Kenneth casts two more spells to ward off the inevitable attack. "Vas Sanct An Jux!" A greater Protection spell. "Vas Tym Sanct Ort Vid!" Protection from magical tracking, extended duration. Kenneth starts to move towards, Nicodemus's hut, then collapses, having used far more mana than is healthy in so short a time.
 
 

Helgraf watches the flow and spike of the ether as more teleportations are worked. He is quite confident his allies will be able to handle the first waves of the enemy, and strides deeper into the surrounding trees, seeking the origin point of the ether warping that is allowing these constant teleportations. Finally, having pushed his way through mulitple thornbushes, and paying more than a little blood to their greedy branches, he stumbles upon a small clearing - within which is a small stone pedastal, atop of which is a misshapen piece of what he presumes to be Blackrock. The stone is spattered with blood - it seems a sacrifice had been made here - recently judging by the flies. Covering his mouth, he grabs the misshapen stone and focuses his will upon it through the Britannian runes.

"An Rel OrtMani Rel Gravmaniailem!"

A thunderclap sounds overhead, and simultaneously the teleport gateways blow out. Unfortunately, Helgraf was unprepared for the last trap of whomever prepared this, because even as the blackrock breaks apart into powder, it discharges a thunderbolt through him, tossing him into the bushes with thunderous force.

He tries to focus on the Linear Help cantrip, but the pain and trauma is too much as he slips into unconsciousness.
 
 

Passing low over the trees, Concussed grabs one of the gazers with his hind claws as it turns to face him. He smashes the multi-eyed horror into the ground , crushing it under his body, then incinerates another two going after Helgraf with his fiery breath. Taking off again to avoid the energy bolts of the remaining gazers, he hears a sudden crack of thunder, and a gasp of pain and suprise. Helgraf! he thinks. And now he sees the black robed magic user,unconscious in the middle of a circle of stones. Beside Helgraf are broken pieces of a black mineral, possibly blackrock, that crumbles away to nothing even as he lands. Concussed picks up Helgraf gently. As he takes off yet again, the first of the gazers bursts through the trees, and a lightning bolt strikes Concussed on a wing. Struggling to regain control, he rises into the sky, out of range of the gazers' attacks.
 
 

Destrius quickly signals for Paulon to help him carry the unconscious Kenneth into Nicodemus's hut.

"Nicky! Open up! It's me!"

Destrius bangs hard on the door.

A few funny whizzes and bangs are heard within, and soon the door vanishes, leaving the doorway open for the group to enter.

"Destie? Is that you? Why the ether didn't you teleport in? You know how troublesome it is for me to set up the damn door what with the eth-"

Nicodemus stops short as he notices the rest of the group. His eyes narrow and scan each person, seemingly drawing information from their faces.

"Shadowlords."

Destrius nods.

"Yes."

"I shall see what I can do. But from your current condition, it seems that they were conjuring stuff to attack you?"

"Exactly. Get it out."

Nicodemus nods, and walks to a small chest on the southern wall. He rummages through it, and comes up with a small black prism, uncanningly resembling the ones used by the Fellowship not too long ago.

He places it upon a stone pedstal, and gestures for Destrius to begin his magic.

Destrius focuses his mind on the blackrock, and slowly mutters ancient words of magic. Nicodemus joins in, and soon the room is filled with spidery chants.

The prism glows bright blue.

The chants stop.

A swirl of sapphire blue bursts out from the blackrock, surrounding the room with powerful magical energy.

Slumping onto the floor, Destrius groans, quite exhausted by the spell.

"T'was fortunate you had thought of this use of blackrock. It would have been better if more research was done into making the spell less bloated, though."

"But of course. Now, however, I think you should inform your friends of what we have just done."

Destrius turns and looks at his companions.

"Nicky and I just cast a blackrock shield around his house. As long as the prism is untouched, the shield will stay intact.

"Theoretically, we now exist in a separate dimension because of the shield, out of the influence of absolutely anything whatsoever.

"We can rest here for the time being and recuperate, after which we can open the shield and make our way to Empath Abbey. The Shadowlords will send us more enemies during the journey, of course, so we'd better be ready."

"Sounds.. urrgh... good to .... me," groans the barely-conscious Kenneth.

His voice gains coherence as he becomes fully conscious, yet he is still slumped on the chair he was set in. "Extradimensional shelter. Good idea. Should work; don't know full capabilities of the Shadowlords with the Black Moon about." He suddenly turns toward Nicodemus; too suddenly, for he experiences a moment of dizziness. "Nicodemus? Do you know anything about the Black Moon other than that it's related to Stonegate and the Shadowlords? That reminds me..." he gestures to his pack. Myrmidon, can you check the Viewer for me?"

Myrmidon reaches into the pack and withdraws the magical orrery viewer, and then peers inside. "One at Stonegate..... another in Moonglow... the third..--" he looks up quickly. "The third is near Yew." He then replaces the viewer.

"Should be safe in here, though," Kenneth comments. "But we'll have to come out eventually. Once we're better prepared." He then falls asleep, resting from the past several hours.

"Charming." Paulon remarks to Myrmidon. "What do you bet that magic stops working as soon as the shield is lowered?"

Destrius closes his eyes and sighs as a thought strikes him.

"Oh yes. Concussed, mind if you find out who the child you saved is?"

"... Concussed?"

Destrius looks around at the faces around him in the room and realizes that two of the party are missing. "Where are Concussed and Helgraf?", he exclaims.

It was Myrmidon who responded. "I think I saw him head after Helgraf once we teleported. We'll meet up with them later, I guess."
 
 

High above a green void, Dracos still floats. His mind is in a quandry, for he is having two conflicting thoughts. One is that he has not been above this magically glowing Stonegate for long at all, and the second thought being; Gods, it feels like I've been hovering up here for a very long time...

Dracos is still undecided over whether he is looking over a magical simulcrum of Stongate or he is somewhere in the ether itself, seeing the magic that surrounds Stonegate. All he does know is that the Shadowlords having been moving in and out of Stonegate a lot, and that something very powerful is inside of the keep. Very powerful indeed. And Dracos cannot move at all.

Suddenly, something happens. Dracos shakes his head. He must focus on exactly what it is. He turns his head very slowly, and scans the green void. At some distance, a large black shape is forming in the miasma. The very structure of the void fluxes, and momentarily Dracos can feel the magic returning to him. Using the brief instance, he forces his body to move towards this black growth. Then, as sudden as its appearance, the magic fades away. Dracos grinds to a halt, still some distance from the growth. Another wave of magic forms, and moves forward again. Many times this happens, and many times he moves only a few inches forward, until he is floating just outside the blackness. He reaches forward to touch it, and his hand passes through it. The magic surges, and he forces his way into the blackness, thinking it can't be any worse than this exile in the void.
 
 

High above the forest, Concussed looks down to see that the home of the reclusive wizard Nicodemus is now encased in what appears to be a blackrock gem, similar to the one that Casrle Britannia was once trapped in several years before. He groans inwardly. "Don't tell me we now have the Guardian to deal with, as well as the Shadowlords?" he mutters. He knows that it is inpenetrable from the outside, and turns towards the city of Yew, seeking the healer.

Later ...

Reyna the healer finishes binding Concussed's wounded shoulder. Concussed looks at the still unconscious Helgraf.with concern. "Will he be alright?" he asks Reyna. "Oh, he'll be fine. Your friend just needs some time to rest, and he'll be as good as new." Getting up, he thanks Reyna and hands over a few gems. "When he is better, tell him to meet up with the party at the Abbey. Oh, and you might want to warn the townsfolk that there's a pack of gazers hanging out there in the southern woods." Concussed turns to leave.
 
 

Heading northeast from the city, skirting around the swamp, Concussed comes to his dwelling in the woods - a giant hollowed-out tree. Entering, he rummages around in his storeroom, then stuffs a backpack with various supplies. He also fills his quiver with arrows. Slinging the backpack over his good shoulder, he leaves his home, heading towards the Abbey.

* I wonder what the others are doing?* he thinks ...
 
 

Slowly, Helgraf regains consciousness inside a small wooden building. The gentle face of a woman is staring down at him.

"You've been pretty reckless, it seems, stranger. You're lucky someone friendly found you before those gazers did," she says with a smile.

Helgraf lets out a quiet groan, then stretches. Managing a weak smile, he nods. "I forgot to account for a trap . . . Who brought me here?"

"Well, he didn't give his name, but said to meet up with the party at the Abbey. Does that help any?"

Helgraf considers this for a moment, extending his thoughts into the surrounding ether - quickly finding the blackrock barrier. It does not take him long to determine the probable reasons for it. He then nods to Reyna, smiling, "Aye, it does indeed. Oh, and here, " saying which, he reaches into his robes and removes a bouquet of flowers, "for your troubles." He also places a small pouch of coin next to the flowers as payment for his healing.

Helgraf then quietly gathers his things and begins to head northwest, toward the Abbey proper.
 
 

Concussed stands outside the Abbey, waiting for the party to arrive. Absently fingering the amulet around his neck, he suddenly notices that the red gem set in its center has begunpulsing, like a thing alive.

From the southeast, a dark vortex appears in the sky, heading for the Abbey. It hovers high above the astounded Concussed for a moment, then it descends. As it begins to vanish, a strange man steps out of it. Concussed doesn't recall seeing him before.

"You sure have a way of making an entrance. I suppose you, too, are here to aid us in our quest.", Concussed says, regaining some of his composure.

The newcomer smiles strangely, as if he is amused in some way.

"Indeed. Come, let us adjourn to the chamber of the Flame of Love."

"Perhaps we should wait for the others. Anyway ...", Concussed starts to speak, but the stranger is already striding through the abbey.

Uncertainly, Concussed follows after him.

A monk stands before the door from the chamber. Apologetically he bows and says "I am sorry, but you can't go in there right now, we're having a ..."

"AN XEN POR!" the stranger intones, and a paralyzation bolt strikes out and hits the monk. Brushing the immobile monk aside, he enters the chamber.

Concussed stares in horror. The gem is now pulsing madly, as if it would burst. Nocking an arrow and aiming at the stranger's back, he shouts "Stop! Who are you really?" The stranger half turns, and in a mocking voice, says. "Ah, you foolish dragon. Did you really think that you and your friends had any chance against us? Witness the fall of your ridiculous principles then, and despair! " With that, he begins another spell. "VAS AN TYM ..."

Concussed releases the arrow, but it never reaches its target.

As the deadly missile speeds towards the stranger, it slows, then stops, hanging in mid-air.

Time comes to a stop for all things nearby, save the Eternal Flame, which continues burning as it always has. The stranger laughs, then walks between the frozen monks gathered in the chamber, as if they were statues. Before the Flame, he stops, and holds the Ring of Haeth aloft. Muttering arcane words of darkness, he begins a ritual...
 
 

Helgraf mumbles to himself as a great shifting of the ether occurs, and then mighty magics are worked. Quietly he curses, and draws forth his silver sabre.

Gritting his teeth, he gashes his left arm, and allows the blood to pool in his free hand while he sheathes the sabre. Once a sufficency has collected, he focuses his will and incants the Brittannian/Gargish syllables.

"IN POR TRAK ANANISHLEM"

The blood in his cupped hand begins to bubble and boil away. As the last of it dissipates, so does he.
 
 

Helgraf materializes inside the chamber which holds the Eternal Flame of Love - and the Stranger wearing the Ring of Heath. Drawing his blade, he calls out.

"Magic that is not used in accordance with the virtues will lead to the loss of the ability to use magic."

The Stranger turns from his ritual for a moment, an evil grin decorating his face, as he speaks, "You cannot stop me, interloper. I don't know how you managed to avoid my TimeStop, but that is immaterial. Try this on for size!"

"IN JUX POR YLEM"

Recognizing the shaping of a Swordstrike spell, Helgraf throws himself to the side, but is still caught by two of the blades, cutting furrows across his chest, and forcing a scream from his lips.

The Stranger laughs quietly, "You are nothing. Watch as your precious Eternal Flame is snuffed..."

Helgraf lies on the ground, blood welling forth from his chest ... and gathering in his left hand, while the Stranger resumes his ritual.

Although it makes him dizzy, he waits until there is enough ... enough to work the magic since he cannot draw Britannian mana.

He points a shaky finger at the Stranger and incants the words, blood spilling over the cup of his left hand.

"REL ORTLEM ANORTLEM"

The Stranger turns, and recognizing the enchantment forming, if not how it is being powered, draws a great deal of power through the ring and incants his own spell.

"VAS REL POR ANKADZA LAP TERORT"

Just as the enchantment which would have stripped him of his magical powers launching screaming toward the Stranger, he disappears in a backglow of purple radiance.

Helgraf curses quietly, "Damn, damn damn.", and begins to bind his injury. The only positive note is that the Flame of Love burns still... but even now, as he watches, it begins to flicker and die.

Slowly, the flow of time returns to the room, and the suspended arrow continues on its trajectory, but its target is no longer there.

Striking the opposite wall, it falls to the ground and lays still.

"Where did he go?!" exclaims Concussed. "Who the hell was that, anyway?". He takes in his surroundings.In the chamber, two monks stand, looking slightly disoriented. Helgraf is rising to his feet, his bloody hand clutching his wounded chest. Concussed crosses the room, and helps the injured Helgraf up. Hoping that his mana source has had enough time to recharge itself, he whispers an evocation.

"SANCTU"

The open wounds on Helgraf's chest quickly mend, their healing accelerated by Concussed's spell.

Brother Wayne, stumbles forward, as the paralyzation spell on him wears off. Entering the room, he sees the flame still burning and breathes a sigh of relief. Then, with a renewed sense of urgency, he calls to the other two gathered monks. "Quickly! We must continue the ritual before the flame dies out again!". Nodding, the other two monks join Wayne as he bows his head and begins chanting from the ancient mysteries of the Brotherhood of the Rose.

As the chant begins, the flame appears to strengthen for while. But slowly, inevitably, it weakens, gradually dwindling away to nothing.

The chant continues, but nothing happens for a long time.

The monks stop the ritual, exhausted. "It's no use, we can't get the Flame to keep burning." Brother Taylor says.

"All is lost ..." whispers Brother Aimi.
 
 

Having failed to do much but get the stranger to vacate the premises - and that at the cost of being victim of a Swordstrike spell - however well healed by his companion at arms - has done little for Helgraf's disposition. Quietly he walks over toward where the flame was lit, and performs a scraping of the inside of the great holder, brushing the powder into a small belt pouch.

After talking to the monks for a while, he purchases some grapes to sustain him, a bottle of wine, and some spider silk, then sets out for Nicodemus' house.
 
 

Dracos finds himself falling from a considerable height, his fall about to be broken by the roof of a hut. As Dracos passes through the roof, he sees, before hitting the floor and blacking out, the familiar form of Nicodemus, and the known visage of the Mage, Destrius. Other, unknown figures are there too, but Dracos has no time to reflect on exactly what they are doing there. The floor is hard, and something cracks as he falls heavily on it.

Myrmidon reacts first, saying, "how did he get in here??"

Kenneth, awakened by the noise, comments, "Not sure. Possibly was already in the void when the sphere formed; Void entry wouldn't have worked once the barrier was raised. He'd have to have been close, too, or the barrier would still have repelled him. And someone make sure he's in better condition than the chair under him." With that, Kenneth tries to rest once more.

"That is quite likely." Destrius agrees. "But how he managed to get there in the first place is an interesting question. One that would lead to some good discussions on magic, but I am too tired to think right now."

Destrius looks at the similarly exhausted Nicodemus and silently mouths the word "leak". The other mage concentrates, frowns and then shakes his head.
 
 

Paulon helps the tattooed mage to his feet. The chair is flattened, but the stranger seems to be suffering no more than shock, saved from worse by a thick cushion.

Paulon takes him to one side, and quietly introduces himself and the party, while Sir Kenneth and the mages rest. In the midst of hearing Dracos' own tale, Paulon suddenly turns, and raps one of the Gargoyle prisoners with his umbrella, snapping the command "Freeze!"

The Gargoyle had been reaching for the blackrock crystal maintaining the shield, but was frozen by the minor spell.

"I think perhaps it is time you two came clean with your part in this mess." Paulon comments to the prisoners. "I suspect that since you seem to have failed at whatever you were doing in Skara Brae, those whom you were working for would not be exactly kind to you, so if you are prepared to reveal what you know, perhaps we can arrange something to protect you. Otherwise you've got both sides mad at you..."

The unfrozen Gargoyle looks around, sees the intent faces around him, sighs, and sits down. "To be slavers, as you have guessed. To have been delivering our cargo from Buccaneer's Den and then Jhelom to the mines in Vesper. To have stopped at Skara Brae to forage for supplies. To know not our employer, but to know he has interests in the blackrock obtainable from the Vesper mine. To have dealt with an intermediary named Cador, from the Britannian Mining Company in Vesper. To know his orders come not from the Minoc Headquarters, but from Buccaneer's Den itself, where the deal was made. To believe his masters to be based near the Den, but to know not where. To know no more, and," he sighs resignedly, then continues, "to expect a long stay in the Prison in Yew."

Paulon looks at the slaver calmly. "You have to admit it beats the alternatives. At least you will be alive."

A crystal ball in the corner of the room flares to life as a voice rings from its direction. "Nicodemus? Are you there?"

Nicodemus heads toward the sphere and answers, "Nystul? Is everything all right at the castle?" He mentaly answers the question himsellf, since Nystul never uses the crystal ball to communicate unless the need is dire.

"Quite so," replied the Court Mage. "First, we have the return of the Shadowlords after some three hundred years, and now there's some strange mage visiting the Castle. He's putting on airs of civility and the whole act, but there's something about him I don't trust. Not to mention the fact that since he arrived, magic across the land has ceased to function -- for the second time in the past week! I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with his ring. He can cast spells fine, himself, and the ring always flashes when he does. Until he saw me watching and made the blasted thing invisible. Is that ring the Ring I think it is?"

Nicodemus was scowlong now, from the first mention of the Ring. "I believe so. I have Destrius here and he says that he met a man wearing the Ring of Haeth while he was at Skara Brae. It's influence interferes with the ether on the entire plane unless shielded in something like blackrock, opaque to etheric waves. That's probably why magic was operable for a while earlier. You'd be right to be wary of him. Anything else?"

Turning away from the Gargoyle, Paulon catches the last of the message from Nystul.

"Actually, yes. We've recieved word from the three Keeps that they are unable to relight the Eternal Flames. I'd like you to see if there's any lore in your tomes that may be of aid. Barring that, ask the Wisps. We've already checked the Lycaem's library, but it seems that whoever put out the Flame of Truth took a few books as well; probably the ones we need. We need the flames back up in order to end this threat, so, I implore you, find the means to light the Flames."

With that, the crystal ball fell silent.

Paulon speaks to Nicodemus. "I'm not too surprised about the Flames. Just putting oil in the brazier and dropping in a match isn't going to do more than create an ordinary fire. Do you have any histories about the founding of the Keeps? The Flames had to have been created by some sort of magic, so there may be some hints there."

Nicodemus walks over to his bookshelves, and pulls out several books, the top one labeled The History of Britannia, which he hands to Paulon.

"Mayhap thou wilt find something useful in these tomes. Those of us with more knowledge of spellcraft will seek clues to those spells in books of magic." He makes other selections which he hands to the other members of the party, who scatter and begin reading through the books, hoping to find the knowledge they seek.

Unnoticed in the rush to seek information, the rescued child smiles. The expression doesn't belong on a human face...

Dracos turns quickly to face the child, aware that something has happened, but the child is simply sitting on the floor, staring at the flagstones.

"Dracos, be thee all right?" Nicodemus places one hand on the tatooed mage's shoulder.

"I'm, I'm fne, Nicodemus. I just felt that there was something we were meant to see, and we missed it. Perhaps the fall has done more to me than I thought."

"Aye. Perhaps ye should drink one of my brothes."

"Nicodemus, the last time I drank a broth of yours, I was paralytically drunk for a three days, and the hangover lasted a week. I think I'll just sit here a while, and read."

Paulon finds a chair and gets comfortable. Opening the topmost book, he finds the handwritten text difficult to follow. A wave of his hand and a muttered command of "Translate" creates an illusion of the text being rewritten into a far neater and more regular font. He skims through the book until he reaches the chapter dealing with the beginnings of the Age of Enlightenment. Finding nothing more than the record of the construction of the Keeps, he puts it aside and moves on to the next book.

The second book is a little more fruitful. Paulon pulls out a folder and a pen from his backpack, and jots down a couple of notes. He rips a bit of paper of the pad in the folder and inserts it at the page in the book. Putting book, pen, and folder aside he opens the third and final text.

Once again skimming the earliest portions, he finds some more information, which he duly copies and marks.

Reading over his scanty notes, Paulon shakes his head. "Not precisely useful."

The page reads

"1) ... and the Flames were kindled from the Fire of Eternity.
2) ... tinder representing the Virtues of Courage was placed in the braziers and the Flame was ignited at high noon...
3) ... it was seen that the Flames were as blue as the sky from which they were born."

"No, but I have found reference to a candle lit from an Eternal Flame around the same time. Possibly they are one and the same. The candle was given to someone in Moonglow, who then moved on to Magincia. The records end there. If we could find this candle..." Dracos places one hand over his brow. "Something really bad is happening, I can feel it."

"I've.... <yaaawwwn>... heard of it," yawns the just-awakening Kenneth, who spent the time that the others were studying in recuperation. "The Flames of Infinity and Singularity were ignited from it, as well. As mentioned, you need special tinder to light it. Each human and Gargish virtue uses a special material as tinder to light the flame. The tinder is ignited with the aforementioned Flame of Eternity. I once read a tome on the subject during a visit to the Lycaeum shortly after the end of the Sixth Age. I don't recall it as telling where the Flame is, but the needed materials were listed in the book." He turns to Nicodemus, and asks, "Do you have a copy of 'Flames of Principle', by the mage Shalineth, written around the dawn of the Age of Enlightenment? That'll tell us what we need as tinder, and finding the needed materials shouldn't be *too* hard. The problem remains in finding the Flame of Eternity."

Kenneth then joins the others in searching for the needed tome.
 
 

The night sky, black and starry, shifts, the tones of night changing to dark colours of purple and green. The new moon, a weight of blackrock, begins to glow with an eerie light. All over Sosaria magic flares with new life.
 
 

The mages clutch their heads as they begin to feel the very ebb and flow of the smallest magics, while the might enchantments are like hammers striking the very depthes of the brain. A rumbling sound of falling stone echoes around the hut. And then, quickly as it began, the sound ceases. Dracos, swaying uneasily on his feet, opens the hut door.

"Ah, we have a slight problem. The unbreakable, non-penetrable blackrock dome that was protecting us all... It's fallen. And the moon seems to have grown larger."
 
 

Destrius awakens from his rest, jolted into consciousness by a blade of magic so powerful that it burned of liquid ether.

"Arrgggh. Something cut through the shield. Something very, VERY sharp. And from the inside too..."

The mage looks hard at Dracos.

"We'll find the traitor soon enough. But now we must protect ourselves from that which will definitely arrive in just about..."

A dark form coalesces in front of the doorway.

"...now."

In the doorway stands a night-robed figure, its eyes glowing gently under the darkness of its hood. It is a Shadowlord, and it radiates fear. The adventurers are unable to move; terror has gripped their bodies, but Nicodemus walks forwards.

"Good, you have come as I asked. These pesky adventurers have proved themselves... problematic to my study of the new moon. Dracos here somehow managed to trap himself inside the ether the moon embodies. Getting him out has proved a greater task than allowing the Ring of Haeth to be used. How is our mutual friend, anyway?"

The Shadowlord bows.

"He is? Good. Now, if you could dispose of these... fools for me. Dracos' re-entry to the real-sphere has given me an idea of how to study the moon in true detail. Pity he won't live to see it happen."
 
 

Kenneth's eyes narrow as he hears Nicodemus's words. When the comment on the group's fate is made, he springs into fast action. Sensing strange ether waves between the blackrock stone used for the shield and the Shadowlords nearby, he hastily cast a spell. He pointed at the blackrock and chanted, "An ort mellap!" The blackrock's glow dims, and Kenneth casts another spell. "An mellap ailem!" The blackrock fades away, leaving behind a core object.

Blacker even than its former housing, a shard of the Gem of Immortality lay on the pedastal. He reaches for it even as a silver bolt struck him. The Shadowlords had realized his intent the moment he cast his spells. He strained to reach the shard, knowing that the Shadowlords themselves could not take it but worrying that Nicodemus would try. He needn't have worried, as Nicodemus instead fired a plast from his firedoom staff. Grunting with the pain and knowing he would not last much longer under this barrage, he called for help.

Fortunately, help came fast. Destrius had already woven fields of force to stop the Shadowlords from pressing the attack, and snatched up the Shard while Nicodemus was occupied with undoing the fields. He followed it up with a healing spell done in his arcane magics, but the spell had quite minimal effects against the burning of the Shadowlord's bolt.

Inspiration suddenly struck Destrius and, hoping he was right, he tried mentally withdrawing the bolt using the shard. The bolt came free and quickly evaporated into nothing. Destrius again intoned the healing spell, with much greater success. Seeing this feat, one of the Shadowlords quickly withdrew into the shadows.

Staggering upright, Kenneth saw that the other two were not so deterred, and that the fields constructed by Destrius were falling to Nicodemus's spells.

Dracos turns to Paulon, who was hiding under the same table as he.

"With the shard having become apparent, it seems the Shadowlord's effect is weaker. I am going to try something risky. Cover me, will you?"

Dracos crawls out from under the table. Nicodemus, his face transformed into a snarl, is casting strong magicks against Kenneth and Destrius. Dracos unfocuses his eyes, and looks at the ether form of the mage, hoping that his old colleague, and friend of the family, is not the person in front of him. But he finds, with regret, that it is Nicodemus.

"Now," Dracos whisphers to Paulon. Magic flares around the tattooed mage, and he leaps forward towards the pedastel, muttering arcane words. One hand is out-stretched, while another is mixing reagants in a pouch. The din of the firefight muffles his words, but a strong glow develops around the mage's body, which then ripples and reforms around his reaching hand. The Shadowlord sees the sudden movement. It moves forward. Dracos leaps the final distance, and his hand grasps the shard of the Gem of Immortality. In that instance, everything grows quite. The Shadowlord fades out of existence, and Nicodemus waves one hand, and gates away. Dracos falls to the ground, his outstretched hand open and empty.

"Sorry," he whisphers as his breathing slows. "Thought the only way to stop this was to block the shard. I've, I've absorbed the gem fragment."

He stops breathing, and his body turns deep black, as if an entrance to some dark void. The chest rises again, and colour returns. "With luck it can be removed via magic, but if we remove it..." The breathing slows.

"If we remove it, the Shadowlord will return, and I doubt we will survive that. We must find the flame... Otherwise, I will be transformed into..."

The mage grows quiet as he slides into unconsciousness.
 
 

As he comes through the woods, Helgraf sees the blackrock pyramid suddenly writhe and then seem to dilate upwards - up up up until it joins with the blackrock moon. Quickly, he picks up his pace, hoping he's not too late, and throws open the door, to see Dracos on the floor, Paulon, Kenneth and Destrius in various states of disarray.

After briefly noting Helgraf's return, Kenneth turns to face Dracos, and chants arather complicated spell. "Vas Sanct Mani. Vas Mani Lor. Vas Sanct Mani An Um!"

"Damn, I was too late," curses Helgraf under his breath.

"But I can report that the monks of Empath Abbey have precious little knowledge to share - they were assaulted about an hour or two before the attack here, I'm guessing by your appearances. The man with the Ring of Heath was doing something with the Eternal Flame - odd though it had already been extinguished. Had I been a little bit faster, he would have been stripped of his magical powers - but alas, things went no better for me than for you august gentlemen.

Kenneth replies. "Indeed. Nicodemus turned on us, the Shadowlords came after us, and Dracos is not going to regain consciousness while the Shard is within him. If he does, it means the Shard overpowered Dracos's psyche, and my magic, and we will have one unfriendly person on our hands. One can only imagine the struggle within him."

"Given the amount of congruence of events in this land, and the apparent predictability of our moves thus far, I have thought of a possibility," Helgraf continues.

"We know the Avatar sent the Codex into the Vortex with the moonstones and the Vortex Cube - and that the Codex could be viewed by use of the convex and concave lenses - provided a gargoyle holds the convex one. Now, with the return of the Codex, it follows the Guardians have in all likelyhood followed suit - so if we return to the Isle of the Avatar with the lenses and a willing gargoyle, we may be able to find the answers we need to work this problem out.

Kenneth turns to the Gargoyle who confessed earlier. "Well? How'd you like to takethe part of the willing Gargoyle? You do this, I'll see if I can get your sentence halved for helping to save the world."

The Gargoyle accepted the offer, as was expected. Kenneth then added, "Good, but you realize we will still have to keep an eye on you until this is all over. And a half sentence for your crimes is still quite heavy. But it beats one twice as heavy. And it's your only option, since we don't have time to hunt down another Gargoyle."

"Yes, this plan isn't perfect. But at this point, nothing really is."
 
 

As a black arrow takes down the last of the wandering gazers, Concussed retrieves his missiles, then turns towards Nicodemus' hut, which he last saw from the air, encased in a blackrock pyramid. An hour before, he had witnessed an assault on the Chamber of the Flame of Love as the abbey. The monks were performing a ceremony in an attempt to relight the Flame of Love, but were unsuccessful. "So why did the Shadowlords attack the chamber, if there were no hope of reviving the flames. No, there must be another way ..." he muses to himself.Then there was that unearthly sound that came from this direction soon after the attack... His fellow adventurer, Helgraf the mage, had suggested heading for the hut to check it out. Stopping for a while to clean up the remnants of the monsters summoned in the earlier battle, he now heads towards for the hut also. I wonder if the others are also there? he wonders.

For the second time this day, he feels a teleportation spell coming into effect. Oh no, not again! Concussed thinks, and prepares for a fight. In a bright flash of ether, a decrepit old mage appears from out of nowhere. Concussed a the vague feeling that he has seen him before ...

"Nicodemus?" he whispers hesitantly, for he had never seen such an expression on the face of his fellow recluse, an old, gruff, and somewhat befuddled wizard, last he saw him. An expression of unmeasurable, thwarted hate burns in the mage's eyes, and a insane grimace warps his wrinkled face as Nicodemus catches sight of Concussed and tosses a Death Vortex in his direction. Shocked, Concussed barely activates his amulet and blinks away before the deadly spell engulfs him.

"OK, OK, so I still haven't returned that ancient tome I borrowed. Geez! Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?"

Concussed sees no response from the old mage, and wonders if Nicodemus is in his right mind.

"Nicodemus? It's me! What in Zog's name are you doing!"

In answer, the old mage begins chanting the words to another spell ...

"Snap out of it!" Concussed cries, diving to the ground as a Death Bolt streaks overhead. Cursing, Concussed activates the amulet in mid-dive, materializing just a foot away from the feet of the mage. Tackling the old wizard from below, he brings him to the ground.

"I really don't want to do this ..." Concussed says, raising a fist above the wizard, who is getting up, mouthing the beginning of yet another spell.

Nicodemus collapses backwards as Concussed's fist connects with his jaw. Bending over to the prone wizard, Concussed makes sure that he hasn't hit the old mage too hard. Satisfied that Nicodemus is unconscious but otherwise relatively unharmed, he slings the mage over his shoulder and staggers towards the hut.

Kenneth turns his attention back to Helgraf and adds, "Maybe the Codex can tellus where to find the Flame of Eternity.

In the meantime, I'll--" He is cut off as another figure approaches.

As he draws near the hut with his load, he detects the same evil presence that he had felt early this morning, before his memory gap. Only this time, it is much fainter, as if it is trapped ... in something. Nevertheless, he is instantly on his guard. Concussed sets Nicodemus on the ground, and enters the hut, bow drawn and at the ready. He lowers it again, seeing the devastation within, and the gathered adventurers.

"Wow. This place has really been trashed. I ran into Nicodemus out back. Boy, was he mad. What happ .."

He stops in midsentence, spotting the unconscious Dracos, and sensing the evil shard that is radiating from inside him.

"There is a Shadowlord in him! But why...?"
 
 

Myrmidon addresses Concussed, filling him in. "Short version: Nic's inleague with the Shadowlords. They showed up. Ken uncovered a Shard they left in Nic's possession. Dracos absorbed it by some odd magic, and Ken cast some spells to suppress the Shadow influence. We need to relight the Flames fast, notably the one corresponding to the Shard in Dracos, so we can purge it from him as soon as possible. We're heading to the Codex for answers."

Kenneth then speaks up. "Anyway, while you're off doing that, I have one more thing to do here. I think I can get the other tome we need, to learn of the materials needed to start the Eternal Flames once we find the Flame of Eternity. First, to cut your journey in half. As I recall, the Avatar returned the Lenses to the Britain museum. I think I'll open a gate there. Getting to the Isle of the Avatar will be trickier, since Gate Travel doesn't go there, and I'll still be up here anyway. I'll meet you on the Isle as soon as I can. Until then... Vas Rel Por!"

A shimmering moongate rose up from the ground.

As the moongate appears, Concussed speaks. "I think I can find us a swift means of getting there. Oh, also, Nicodemus is lying outside the hut, out cold. If he - is - working for the Shadowlords, I suggest you take some precautions before he wakes up." Saying this, he steps through the moongates with the others.
 
 

Destrius, still rather dumbfounded by the sudden agression of his old friend Nicodemus, scratches his hooded head slowly and mutters something in a tongue alien to this world.

After the various members of his group leave the area, the mage walks over to Nicodemus' prone body and casts a spell of binding.

"Something is not right."

An understatment indeed.

Destrius clapses one of Nicodemus' hands in his own, and recites transdimensional teleportation magic. A flash of blue, and both mages disappear.
 
 

Placing Nicodemus down on a simple bed, Destrius proceeds to cast a few more spells to keep his friend confined to the hut. He then produces a large supply of food and quite a few interesting books.

"Your magic will not work in the land of Dragons, and definitely not in my home. Stay here till I find a way to relieve you from this ailment you suffer from."

With that, Destrius casts another spell of teleportation and appears back in Britannia.
 
 

This time, no shadow magics touched the portal as the group headed to the moongate just east of Britain. Hoping his comrades would be all right, Kenneth headed east into the Deep Forest, seeking the 'home' of the Wisps.
 
 

"Ken? Can you hear me?"

A shimmering figure, clothed in a blue robe, appears before the valiant hero.

"Ken, listen. I am a projection, an amalgam of both Dracos and the Shard. I am both Shadowlord and human, and I and not either. I have the magick of one sphere, and the power of another. I could tear the world apart. But I will not. The part of me that is Shadowlord wants only respect; we do not want to take the world and kill all those who live upon it; we simply want our aspects to be used. I want to be feared, so I cause chaos. Hatred causes dispute, and Cowardice makes those who would fight hide. This world of yours is too virtuous; you have forgotten about the vices that give virtue meaning. If this continues, all that is held dear, the virtues, will become twisted. They shall become vice, and this world will fall. Blackthorn saw this, but Blackthorn was marred because we were there. Perhaps had we never been formed, his rule would have been a btter one than your Lord British."

The shape shimmers. "Ken, this is the more Dracos side speaking. The battle within me is not going well. I could wake at anytime; I might sleep for days. I cannot tell. The journey through the moongate has released this aspect; two beings cannot co-exist together within the moonstones. When the others exit, I shall once again be joined to my body. So listen. The book you seek, if it is not with the wisps, can be found in Moonglow. Find my servant. He will guide you to it. And do not trust the wisps, they sold information about us and our world to the Guar..." The vision vanishes.

After the apparition fades, Kenneth heads east at a brisk pace, mulling over the message. *The Shadowlords only want their aspects to be acknowledged, and nothing more? Hah. I dount that. Talking about what he wants, and what Hatred wants, and what Cowardice wants, like it's all reasonable.....* His thoughts drift off as he goes over that again. "Thought you could fool me, eh?" he mutters to himself. *Faulinei, Shadowlord of Falsehood. How can I take your words at face value.* Kenneth smiles to himself, then suddenly frowns. *I have to finish up here fast and get back to the group. They'll need to know this! Especially since it tells us which Flame we need lit first.*

He arrives at the Wisps's home rather quickly. Dracos's own words come to mind about not trusting the Wisps. "Don't worry; I've got it all taken care of."

He enters, and is quickly approached by one of the motes of energy.

"Xorinia greets the Britannian entity called 'Lumina'. What is 'your' 'need'?"

Kenneth, unsurprised at the Wisp's knowledge of his true identity, replied, "Nothing much; I just need to consult one of your books. A tome called 'Flames of Principle' by the mage Shalineth."

The Wisp answered, "That is agreeable, as 'we' have already absorbed all information contained within the 'book'." Then it receded into a side room. For lack of a better place to start looking, I checked that room.

As it turns out, the book was in the third room I searched, but at least I found it. I flipped through it, looking for the part on the materials needed to light the flames. After awhile, he comes upon the correct passage, and notes to himself what they'll need.

Honesty is represented by a page of vellum.
Compassion is represented by a rose flower.
Valor is represented by blood moss.
Justice is represented by a rod of yew wood.
Sacrifice is represented by four drops of blood.
Honor is represented by a drop of dragon's blood.
Spirituality is represented by a scale from the Silver Serpent.
Humility is represented by ash from wood uncut from the tree.

Helgraf emerges from the Moongate inside the stone circle between Britain and Cove, and immediately begins to scout the surrounding area while waiting for the others to come through. As they emerge one by one, he nicks a finger, then sheathes his sabre, and quietly incants a spell : IN WIS JUX : and focuses on the surrounding area, then gives his report.

"One or two potential hostiles - nothing currently heading our way though. If we keep quiet, we should be able to avoid unwanted attention."
 
 

Stepping out from the Moongate, Concussed looks arround at his new surroundings. This area is near where he had left the spacecraft earlier this morning. He turns and addresses the other members of the party. "You go ahead and get the Lenses from the Museum. I'll prepare our getaway vehicle." With that he heads north towards the spacecraft. He reaches the vehicle, and begins to perform a brief check. Relieved to find it undamaged and unaltered since his encounter with the Shadowlord, he opens the cargo compartment. Satisfied that it can fit the entire party and the Lenses, he closes it again. The Barataria is powered up and ready to go. Concussed climbs into the cockpit. The ships slowly hovers up to tree level. "Let's see, this should be the throttle ... yahhhh!"

In the forest of Yew, Kenneth spies a streak of orange passing overhead. "I don't even want to know ..." he mutters.

About five minutes later, having gotten used to the Barataria's controls and having orbited Britannia several times, Concussed finally slows the machine down and heads it in the direction of Britain.

He lands the craft near the Moongate and awaits the return of the others from their errand in Britain.
 
 

There is considerable confusion in Britain, and both citizens and guards are on the streets, awakened by the magical battle that had taken place hours before. The party slips through the crowds gathering to gawk at the deceased dragon, carryuing Dracos as if he is drunk, and enters the deserted Museum, collecting the Lenses from their place of honor in tha hall. It seems that the theft of the Vortex Cube is as yet unnoticed by the authorities.

With the Lenses in their possession, the gathered adventurers once more brave the crowds and leave Britain behind them, returning to the Moongate where Concussed and his craft await them.
 
 

Once the party has boarded the Barataria, Concussed lifts off, setting course for the Isle of the Avatar, and the Shrine of the Codex thereupon.
 
 

"Let me see. More reagents, that new spellbook I was preparing, this strange sword, a couple of potions..."

Destrius hastily grabs all the items he thinks important to the current situation, and dumps them into a small bag that apparently has infinite capacity.

"There. The rest should find these useful where we will be going. Oh, and I must remember to get Kenneth to morph into a Dragon before proceeding."

Noting that it is about time to go, Destrius quickly murmurs a minor cantrip that sends him to the Isle of the Avatar.
 
 
 
 

Not too long after, Lumina lands at the Shrine of the Codex, and sees Destrius.

Before he can call a greeting, he notes that Destrius is looking oddly at something nearby. Following the mage's gaze, Lumina sees a strange construction of metal in a shape resembling something made to fly. It opens up, and he sees the rest of the group file out and approach them. Seeing the unconscious form of Dracos, he is reminded of the mage's message earlier.

The cockpit of the Barataria opens, and Concussed climbs out. Seeing Lumina, he greets him. "We acquired the Lenses with little problem. I trust that the Wisps have told you what you wished to learn?"

Once the group is gathered up, he returns to human form and relates the particulars of the message, notably that t